No More Learning

My emotion and astonish-
ment were immense. My heart beat fast. I felt its pulse in my
temples, and my breath was short.
At a little green table that I remembered well sat a small
boy, rather quaintly dressed in a bygone fashion, with a frill
round his wide shirt collar, and his golden hair cut quite close
at the top, and rather long at the sides and back. It was Gogo
Pasquier. He seemed a very nice little boy. He had
pen and
ink and copy-book before him, and a gilt-edged volume bound in
red morocco. I knew it at a glance; it was Elegant Extracts. '
The dog Médor lay asleep in the shade. The bees were droning
among the nasturtiums and convolvulus.
A little girl ran up the avenue from the porter's lodge and
pushed the garden gate, which rang the bell as it opened, and
she went into the garden, and I followed her; but she took no
notice of me, nor did the others. It was Mimsey Seraskier.
I went and sat at my mother's feet, and looked long in her
face.
I must not speak to her nor touch her — not even touch her
busy hand with my lips, or I should "blur the dream. ”
I got up and looked over the boy Gogo's shoulder.
He was
translating Gray's Elegy into French; he had not got very far,
and seemed to be stumped by the line-
“And leaves the world to darkness and to me. ”


## p. 5060 (#228) ###########################################

5060
GEORGE DU MAURIER
d
arm
ST
2
2
Mimsey was silently looking over his other shoulder, her
thumb in her mouth, one on the back of his chair. She
seemed to be stumped also; it was an awkward line to translate.
I stooped and put my hand to Médor's nose, and felt his
warm breath. He wagged his rudiment of a tail, and whimpered
in his sleep. Mimsey said: -
"Regarde Médor, comme il remue la queue! C'est le Prince
Charmant qui lui chatouille le bout du nes. ”
Said my mother, who had not spoken hitherto:-
“Do speak English, Mimsey, please. ”
O my God! My mother's voice, so forgotten, yet so familiar,
so unutterably dear! I rushed to her and threw myself on my
knees at her feet, and seized her hand and kissed it, crying,
Mother, mother! ”
A strange blur came over everything; the sense of reality
was lost.
All became as a dream a beautiful dream, but only
a dream; and I woke.
F
fi
BARTY JOSSELIN AT SCHOOL
From (The Martian)
From Harper's Magazine. Copyright, 1896, by Harper & Brothers
be
20
a
NDEED, even from his early boyhood, he was the most extraor-
dinarily gifted creature I have ever known, or even heard of;
a kind of spontaneous humorous Crichton to whom all things
came easily — and life itself as an uncommonly good joke. Dur-
ing that summer term of 1847 I did not see very much of him.
He was in the class below mine, and took up with Laferté and
little Bussy-Rabutin, who were first-rate boys, and laughed at
everything he said, and worshiped him. So did everybody else,
sooner or later; indeed, it soon became evident that he was
most exceptional little person.
In the first place, his beauty was absolutely angelic, as will
be readily believed by all who have known him since. The
mere sight of him as a boy made people pity his father and
mother for being dead!
Then he had a charming gift of singing little French and
English ditties, comic or touching, with his delightful fresh young
pipe, and accompanying himself quite nicely on either piano or
guitar without really knowing a note of music. Then he could
ai
lah


## p. 5061 (#229) ###########################################

GEORGE DU MAURIER
5061
ured up.
draw caricatures that we boys thought inimitable, much funnier
than Cham's or Bertall's or Gavarni's, and collected and treas-
I have dozens of them now they make me laugh
still, and bring back memories of which the charm is indescrib-
able; and their pathos to me!
And then how funny he was himself, without effort, and with
a fun that never failed! He was a born buffoon of the graceful
kind, - more whelp or kitten than monkey - ever playing the
fool, in and out of season, but somehow always apropos; and
French boys love a boy for that more than anything else; or
did in those days.
His constitution, inherited from a long line of frugal seafar-
ing Norman ancestors (not to mention another long line of well-
fed, well-bred Yorkshire squires), was magnificent. His spirits
never failed. He could see the satellites of Jupiter with the
naked eye; this was often tested by M. Dumollard, maître de
mathématiques (et de cosmographie), who had a telescope, which,
with a little good-will on the gazer's part, made Jupiter look as
big as the moon, and its moons like stars of the first magnitude.
His sense of hearing was also exceptionally keen. He could
hear a watch tick in the next room, and perceive very high
sounds to which ordinary human ears are deaf (this was found
out later); and when we played blindman's buff on a rainy day,
he could, blindfolded, tell every boy he caught hold of — not by
feeling him all over like the rest of us, but by the mere smell of
his hair, or his hands, or his blouse! No wonder he was
much more alive than the rest of us! According to the amiable,
modest, polite, delicately humorous, and ever tolerant and con-
siderate Professor Max Nordau, this perfection of the olfactory
sense proclaims poor Barty a degenerate! I only wish there
a few more like him, and that I were a little more like
him myself!
By the way, how proud young Germany must feel of its en-
lightened Max, and how fond of him, to be sure! les compli-
ments!
But the most astounding thing of all (it seems incredible, but
all the world knows it by this time, and it will be accounted for
later on) is that at certain times and seasons Barty knew by an
infallible instinct where the north was, to a point.
Most of my
SO
were


## p. 5062 (#230) ###########################################

5062
GEORGE DU MAURIER
readers will remember his extraordinary evidence as a witness in
the “Rangoon” trial, and how this power was tested in open
court, and how important were the issues involved, and how he
refused to give any explanation of a gift so extraordinary.
It was often tried at school by blindfolding him, and turning
him round and round till he was giddy, and asking him to point
out where the North Pole was, or the North Star, and seven or
eight times out of ten the answer was unerringly right. When
he failed, he knew beforehand that for the time being he had
lost the power, but could never say why. Little Doctor Larcher
could never get over his surprise at this strange phenomenon,
nor explain it; and often brought some scientific friend from
Paris to test it, who was equally nonplussed.
When cross-examined, Barty would merely say: -
"Quelquefois je sais — quelquefois je ne sais pas — mais quand
je sais, je sais, et il n'y pas à s'y tromper! ”
Indeed, on one occasion that I remember well a very strange
thing happened; he not only pointed out the north with absolute
accuracy, as he stood carefully blindfolded in the gymnastic
ground, after having been turned and twisted again and again -
but still blindfolded, he vaulted the wire fence and ran round
to the refectory door, which served as the home at rounders, all
of us following; and there he danced a surprising dance of his
own invention, that he called "La Paladine, the most humor-
ously graceful and grotesque exhibition I ever saw; and then,
taking a ball out of his pocket, he shouted, «À l'amandier! » and
threw the ball. Straight and swift it flew, and hit the almond
tree, which was quite twenty yards off; and after this he ran
round the yard from base to base, as at “la balle au camp,” till
he reached the camp again.
“If ever he goes blind,” said the wondering M. Mérovée,
“he'll never need a dog to lead him about. ”
“He must have some special friend above! ” said Madame
Germain (Mérovée's sister, who was looking on).
Prophetic words! I have never forgotten them, nor the tear
that glistened in each of her kind eyes as she spoke. She was a
deeply religious and very emotional person, and loved Barty
almost as if he were a child of her own.
Such women have strange intuitions.
Barty was often asked to repeat this astonishing performance
before skeptical people — parents of boys, visitors, etc. — who had


## p. 5063 (#231) ###########################################

GEORGE DU MAURIER
5063
been told of it, and who believed he could not have been prop-
erly blindfolded; but he could never be induced to do so.
There was no mistake about the blindfolding - I helped in it
myself; and he afterwards told me the whole thing was “aussi
simple que bonjour" if once he felt the north – for then, with
his back to the refectory door, he knew exactly the position and
distance of every tree from where he was.
“It's all nonsense about my going blind and being able to do
without a dog,” he added; "I should be just as helpless as any
other blind man, unless I was in a place I knew as well as my
own pocket — like this play-ground! Besides, I shan't go blind;
nothing will ever happen to my eyes — they're the strongest and
best in the whole school! »
He said this exultingly, dilating his nostrils and chest; and
looked proudly up and around, like Ajax defying the lightning.
“But what do you feel when you feel the north, Barty — a
kind of tingling ? ” I asked.
“OhI feel where it is as if I'd got a mariner's compass
trembling inside my stomach - and as if I wasn't afraid of any-
body or anything in the world - as if I could go and have my
head chopped off and not care a fig. ”
“Ah, well - I can't make it out - I give it up, I exclaimed.
«So do 1,” exclaims Barty.
«But tell me, Barty," I whispered — have you -- have you
really got a—a— special friend above ? »
"Ask no questions and you'll get no lies,” said Barty, and
winked at me one eye after the other -- and went about his busi-
ness, and I about mine.


## p. 5064 (#232) ###########################################

5064
WILLIAM DUNBAR
(1465? -1530 ? )
saw
PICTURESQUE figure in a picturesque age is that of William
Dunbar, court minstrel to James IV. , and as Sir Walter
Scott declared, “a poet unrivaled by any that Scotland has
ever produced. ” Little of his personal history is known. Probably
he was a native of East Lothian, a member of the family of the Earl
of March, and a graduate of St. Andrews University about the year
1479. After his college days he joined the order of Franciscans and
became a mendicant friar, preaching the queer sermons of his time,
and begging his way through England and France. Yet in these
pilgrimages the young scholar learned useful habits of self-denial,
new phases of human character, and above all enjoyed that
close communion with nature which is the need of the poet. Over and
over there is a reflection of this life in that fanciful verse, which has
caught the color of the morning hours when the hedgerows are wet
and the grass dewy, when the wild roses scent the roadside and the
lark is at matins - verse full of the joy of life and the hope of youth.
After some years of this vagabond life, Dunbar left the Francis-
cans and attached himself to the court, where he speedily became a
favorite. His day was one of pageant and show, of masque and
spectacle, and into its gay assemblage of knights and courtiers, ladies
and great nobles, Dunbar fitted perfectly. When an embassy was
sent to England to negotiate the royal marriage with Margaret Tudor,
Dunbar went along, being specially accredited by the king. He
became a favorite with the young Princess, and a poem written in
honor of the city of London, and one descriptive of the Queen's
Progress, afford a faithful and valuable memorial of this mission.
History is fortunate when she secures a poet as her scribe. Dunbar
is principally known by his three poems (The Thistle and the Rose,'
'The Golden Targe,' and 'The Dance of the Seven Deadly Sins. '
The first of these is an allegory celebrating the nuptials of the
king. It suggests of course the allegories of Chaucer; but Dunbar's
muse is his own, and the poem springs fresh and clear from native
fonts. The poet represents himself as awakened by Aurora on
spring morning and told to do homage to May. Through the sym-
bolism of the court of Nature, who crowns the Lion and Eagle, com-
missions the Thistle and Rose as her handmaidens, and orders their
praises sung by the assembled birds of earth, the political significance
a


## p. 5065 (#233) ###########################################

WILLIAM DUNBAR
5065
of the allegory appears.
But "The Thistle and the Rose,' which
is thus made to illustrate the union between the two great houses
of Scotland and England, is far more than the poem of an occasion.
It is full of the melody and fragrance of spring, saturated with that
sensuous delight which at this bountiful season fills the veins of
Nature. Here Dunbar is no longer the court laureate, but the beg-
ging friar, wandering through the green lanes and finding bed and
board under the free skies.
“The Golden Targe) is more artificial in construction.
It is an-
other allegory, descriptive of an encounter between Cupid and
Reason, who is defended by a golden targe or shield from the
attacks of love. Here again the rural landscape forms a background
to his mimic action. Amazons dressed in green fight the battle of
Cupid, and vanquish Reason, then magically vanish and leave the
poet to awake from his dream. (The Golden Targe was a poem to
be read in the royal presence, when the court assembled after a
day's hunting or an afternoon of archery; but it is filled with the
ethereal loveliness which only the true poet beholds.
It is in 'The Dance of the Seven Deadly Sins) that Dunbar
touches the note of seriousness, which characterizes his race and his
individual genius. This satire is not so unsparing an indictment as
the vision of Piers Ploughman, and yet it provokes inevitable com-
parison with the older poem. In a dream the poet sees heaven and
hell opened. It is the eve of Ash Wednesday, and the Devil has
commanded a dance to be performed by those spirits that had never
received absolution. In obedience to this command the Seven Deadly
Sins present a masque before his Satanic Majesty, and it is in the
description of this grisly performance that Dunbar reveals a
aspect of power. The comedy here is not comic, but grotesque and
horrid. The vision of the Scot is the vision that came to the poets
of the Inferno' and Paradise Lost,' and it shows that his imagina-
tion was capable of the loftiest flights.
After the melancholy day of Flodden Field, the Scottish laureate-
ship ceased to exist, but it is remarkable that so prominent a man
as Dunbar should so completely have disappeared from contemporary
view that his subsequent career and the time of his death are mat-
ters of doubt. His period is given as between the years 1465 and
1530, but these dates are only approximate.
Had Dunbar held his genius in hand as completely as did Chaucer,
his accomplishment would doubtless have been greater than it was.
Yet his place in literature is that of one of the most important poets
of the fifteenth century, the age of Caxton and book-making, the
time of that first flush of radiance which ushered in the full day of
Spenser and Shakespeare.
new


## p. 5066 (#234) ###########################################

5066
WILLIAM DUNBAR
THE THISTLE AND THE ROSE
Q"
UHEN Merche wes with variand windis past,
And Appryle had, with her silver schouris,
Tane leif at Nature with ane orient blast,
And lusty May, that muddir is of flouris,
Had maid the birdis to begyn thair houris
Amang the tendir odouris reid and quhyt,
Quhois armony to heir it wes delyt:
In bed at morrow, sleiping as I lay,
Me thocht Aurora with hir cristall ene
In at the window lukit by the day,
And halsit me, with visage paill and grene;
On quhois hand a lark sang fro the splene:-
Awalk, luvaris, out of you slomering;
Sé hou the lusty morrow dois up spring.
Me thocht fresche May befoir my bed up stude,
In weid depaynt of mony diverss hew,
Sobir, benyng, and full of mansuetude,
In brycht atteir of flouris forgit new,
Hevinly of color, quhyt, reid, broun and blew,
Balmit in dew, and gilt with Phebus bemys;
Quhyll all the house illumynit of her lemys.
Slugird, sche said, awalk annone for schame,
And in my honour sum thing thou go wryt;
The lark hes done the mirry day proclame,
To raise up luvaris with confort and delyt;
Yit nocht incressis thy curage to indyt,
Quhois hairt sum tyme hes glaid and blisfull bene,
Sangis to mak undir the levis grene.
Than callit sche all fouris that grew on feild,
Discirnyng all thair fassionis and effeiris,
Upone the awfull Thrissil sche beheld,
And saw him kepit with a busche of speiris;
Considering him so able for the weiris,
A radius croun of rubeis sche him gaif,
And said, In feild go furth and fend the laif:
And sen thou art a King, thou be discreit;
Herb without vertew thow hald nocht of sic pryce
As herb of vertew and of odour sueit;


## p. 5067 (#235) ###########################################

WILLIAM DUNBAR
5067
And lat no nettill vyle, and full of vyce,
Hir fallow to the gudly flour-de-lyce;
Nor latt no wyld weid, full of churlicheness,
Compair hir till the lilleis nobilness.
Nor hald non udir flour in sic denty
As the fresche Rois, of cullour reid and quhyt:
For gife thow dois, hurt is thyne honesty;
Considring that no flour is so perfyt,
So full of vertew, plesans, and delyt,
So full of blisful angeilik bewty,
Imperiall birth, honour and dignité.
FROM THE GOLDEN TARGE)
RYGHT as the stern of day begouth to schyne
B.
I raise, and by a rosere did me rest :
Up sprang the goldyn candill matutyne,
With clere depurit bemes cristallyne
Glading the mery foulis in thair nest;
Or Phebus was in purpur cape revest
Up raise the lark, the hevyn's menstrale fyne
In May, in till a morrow myrthfullest.
Full angellike thir birdis sang thair houris
Within thair courtyns grene, in to thair bouris,
Apparalit quhite and red, wyth blomes suete;
Anamalit was the felde with all colouris,
The perly droppis schuke in silvir schouris;
Quhill all in balme did branch and levis flete,
To part fra Phebus did Aurora grete;
Hir cristall teris I saw hyng on the flouris
Quhilk he for lufe all drank up with his hete.
For mirth of May, wyth skippis and wyth hoppis,
The birdis sang upon the tender croppis,
With curiouse notis, as Venus chapell clerkis;
The rosis yong, new spreding of their knoppis,
War powderit brycht with hevinly beriall droppis,
Throu bemes rede, birnyng as ruby sperkis;
The skyes rang for schoutyng of the larkis.


## p. 5068 (#236) ###########################################

5068
WILLIAM DUNBAR
NO TREASURE AVAILS WITHOUT GLADNESS
B
E MERRY, man, and tak not sair in mind
The wavering of this wretchit warld of sorrow;
To God be humble, and to thy friend be kind,
And with thy neighbour gladly lend and borrow:
His chance to-nicht, it may be thine to-morrow;
Be blyth in heart for ony aventúre;
For oft with wise men't has been said aforrow
Without Gladness availis no Treasure.
Mak thee gude cheer of it that God thee sendis,
For warldis wrak but weilfare nocht availis;
Nae gude is thine, save only that thou spendis,
Remenant all thou brukis but with bailis:
Seek to soláce when sadness thee assailis;
In dolour lang thy life may not indure,
Wherefore of comfort set up all thy sailis;
Without Gladness availis no Treasure.
Follow on pitý, flee trouble and debate,
With famous folkis hald thy company;
Be charitable and humble in thine estate,
For warldly honour lastis but a cry:
For trouble in erd tak no mélancholy;
Be rich in patience, give thou in guids be puir;
Who livis merry he livis michtily:
Without Gladness availis no Treasure.
Thou sees thir wretches set with sorrow and care
To gather guids in all their livis space;
And when their bags are full, their selves are bare,
And of their riches but the keeping has:
While others come to spend it that has grace,
Whilk of thy winning no labour had nor cure.
Tak thou example, and spend with merriness;
Without Gladnéss availis no Treasúre.
Though all the work that e'er had living wicht
Were only thine, no more thy part does fall
But meat, drink, clais, and of the lave a sicht,
Yet to the Judge thou sall give compt of all;
Ane reckoning richt comes of ane ragment small:
But just and joyous, do to none injúre,
Ane Truth sall mak thee strang as ony wall;
Without Gladness availis no Treasure.


## p. 5069 (#237) ###########################################

5069
JEAN VICTOR DURUY
(1811-1894)
BURUY, whose monumental works upon Grecian and Roman
history have been worthily reproduced in England under
the editorship of Professor Mahaffy, and in America in
sumptuous illustrated editions, was a figure of the first importance
both in the educational and in the distinctly literary history of France,
throughout nearly half the present century. He became one of the
“Immortals » in 1884, succeeding to the chair of Mignet; but his
History of Ancient Greece, which was published in 1862, had been
already crowned by the Academy. His
more extensive History of the Grecian
People, published in 1885-1887, won from
the Academy the Jean Renaud prize of
10,000 francs.
He was born September uth, 1811, of a
family employed in the Gobelins tapestry
works in Paris. His predilection for study
secured him an opportunity to enter the
College of Sainte-Barbe, whence he passed
to the Normal School.
When he was twenty-two he began teach-
ing history, first at Rheims, and then in
the College of Henry IV. in Paris. Here
JEAN VICTOR DURUY
he began his literary work, mostly upon
school-books, of which he wrote many, mainly historical and geo-
graphical. He received the degree of Doctor of Letters in 1853, and
became successively Inspector of the Academy of Paris, Master of
Conferences at the Normal School, Professor of History at the Poly-
technic School, and Inspector-General of Secondary Instruction. Dur-
ing the whole of this period he had been engaged with secondary
classes, and had become strongly impressed by the faulty condition
of the primary and secondary schools. In 1863 Louis Napoleon put
him at the head of the educational system of the empire as Minister
of Public Instruction. This appointment gave him the opportunity to
carry out numerous and important secularizing reforms which brought
him into sharp collision with the clerical party. He held his post as
minister for six years - six years of struggle with the parsimonious



## p. 5070 (#238) ###########################################

5070
JEAN VICTOR DURUY
disposition of the administration upon the one hand, and with the
hostile clericals upon the other.
The measures in which he was especially interested were the
reorganization of the Museum of Natural History, the extension of
scientific study, the introduction of the study of modern and contem-
porary history in the lyceums (a dreadful experiment, according to
his opponents), gratuitous and compulsory primary education, the
improvement of the night schools, and popular classes for adults.
He was to a large extent successful in all these, except in the
direction of compulsory education. The efforts which he made to
improve the instruction given to young girls brought upon him the
tempest. The bishops, with Monsignor Dupanloup of Orléans at their
head, raised a veritable crusade, and Pope Pio Nono himself at
length entered the hostile ranks. Probably in part because of this
conflict, he was superseded in 1869 and was made a member of the
Senate, from which he retired to private life, and the prosecution of
his literary labors on the fall of the empire, in the following year.
He died in 1894.
As an author his style is clear and direct. Among his numerous
works the most important are the two great histories, for which, as
for other achievements, honors were heaped upon him. In these he
laid particular stress upon the milieu — the conditions of place, time,
and race.
Consequently he has therein written the history of the
Greek and Roman peoples, and not merely the history of Greece and
Rome, - and has pictured them, so far as possible, as they looked
and felt and thought and acted. He exhibits, for example, the
growth of the magnificent power of Rome, and its decadence; and
shows the all-conquering empire subdued to the manners, the gods,
and the institutions of the conquered. And worse:–« They had be-
come enamored of the arts, the letters, and the philosophy of Greece,
and dying Greece had avenged itself by transmitting to them the
corruption which had dishonored its old age. ”
The drift of his argument appears in this paragraph, in which he
sums up his story of the Eternal City:--" In the earlier portion of its
history may be seen the happy effects of a progressively liberal pol-
icy; in the later the baneful consequences of absolute power, govern-
ing a servile society through a venal administration. ”


## p. 5071 (#239) ###########################################

JEAN VICTOR DURUY
5071
THE NATIONAL POLICY
From the History of Rome)
,
penetrate into
another universe, - that of the successors of
Alexander. The eternal glory of Rome, the immense bene-
faction by which she effaces the memory of so many unjust wars,
is to have reunited those two worlds that in all former ages
were divided in interest, and strangers to each other; is to have
mingled and fused the brilliant but corrupt civilization of the
East with the barbaric energy of the West. The Mediterranean
became a Roman lake, - mare nostrum, they said, - and the
same life circulated on all its shores, called for the first and
the last time to a common existence.
In this work were employed a century and a half of struggles
and diplomacy; for Rome, working for a patient aristocracy and
not for a man, was not compelled to attain her end at a bound.
Instead of rearing suddenly one of those colossal monarchies
formed like the statue of gold with feet of clay, she founded
slowly an empire which fell only under the weight of years and
of the Northern hordes. After Zama she could have attempted the
conquest of Africa, but she left Carthage and the Numidians to
enfeeble each other. After Cynoscephalæ and Magnesia, Greece
and Asia were all ready for the yoke, but she accorded them fifty
years more of liberty. This was because, along with the pride
of the Roman name and the necessity for dominion, she always
retained some of her ancient virtues. The Popiliuses were more
numerous than the Verreses. Now she preferred to rule the
world; later she will put it to pillage. Thus, wherever Rome saw
strength she sent her legions; all power was broken; the ties of
States and leagues were shattered; and when her soldiers were
recalled they left behind them only weakness and anarchy. But
the task of the legions accomplished, that of the Senate began.
After force came craft and diplomacy. Those senators, grown
old amidst the terrors of the second Punic war, seemed now to
have less pleasure in arms than in the game of politics,-the
first, in all ages, of Italian arts.
Several other causes dictated this policy of reserve. Against
the Gauls, the Samnites, Pyrrhus, and Hannibal,- in other


## p. 5072 (#240) ###########################################

5072
JEAN VICTOR DI'RUY
words, for the defense of Latium and of Italy,— Rome had em-
ployed all her strength; it was then a question of her existence:
whereas, in the wars with Greece and with Asia, her ambition
and her pride alone were interested; and wisdom demanded that
some relaxation be given to the plebeians and the allies. The
Senate had moreover too many affairs on its hands — the wars
with Spain, with Corsica, with Cisalpina, and with Istria - to
admit of its becoming deeply involved in the East. Therefore
two legions only will fight Philip and Antiochus -- that will suf-
fice to conquer, but would be too little to despoil them. Further-
more, the Senate believed that in penetrating into this Greek
world, where an old glory concealed so much weakness, they
could not accord too much to prudence. These pitiless enemies
of the Volscians and the Samnites will not proceed in their next
wars by exterminating their adversaries and wasting their coun-
try. "It was not with such a purpose," said they, that they
came to pour out their blood; they took in hand the cause of
oppressed Greece. ” And that language and that policy they will
not change after victory. The first act of Flamininus, on the day
after Cynoscephalæ, was to proclaim the liberty of the Greeks.
All who bore that respected name seemed to have the right to
Roman protection; and the little Greek cities of Caria, and of
the coasts of Asia and Thrace, received with astonishment their
liberty from a people that they hardly knew. All were capti-
vated by this apparent generosity. None perceived that in re-
storing independence to the cities and States, Rome wished
to break up the confederations that sought to reorganize and
would perhaps have given new force to Greece.
In isolating them
and attaching them to herself by grateful ties, she placed them
almost insensibly under her influence. She made allies of them;
and every one knows what the allies of Rome became. Thus the
Senate was so well satisfied with this policy, which created di-
vision everywhere and awakened extinct rivalries, that for half
a century it followed no other.


## p. 5073 (#241) ###########################################

JEAN VICTOR DURUY
5073
RESULTS OF THE ROMAN DOMINION
From the History of Rome )
in
A civilized" all the Western world, for which the Greeks had
done nothing Her language, out of which sprang the
various languages of the Romance nations, is in case of need a
means of communication among scholars of all countries, and her!
books will always remain - a wise selection being made - the
best for the higher culture of the mind. They have merited
above all others the title of litteræ humaniores, the literature by
which men are made. A cardinal, reading the “Thoughts of Mar-
cus Aurelius' (written in Greek, it is true, but written by a
Roman), exclaimed, “My soul blushes redder than my scarlet at
sight of the virtues of this Gentile. "
Suppose Rome destroyed by Pyrrhus or Hannibal, before
Marius and Cæsar had driven the German tribes back from Gaul:
their invasion would have been effected five centuries sooner;
and since they would have found opposed to them only other
barbarians, what a long night would have settled down upon the
world!
It is true that when the Roman people had laid hands upon
the treasures of Alexander's successors, the scandal of their
orgies exceeded for a century anything that the East had ever
seen; that their amusements were sanguinary games or licentious
plays; that the Roman mind, after receiving a temporary benefit
from Greek philosophy, went astray in Oriental mysticism; and
that finally, after having loved liberty, Rome accepted despotism,
as if willing to astonish the world as much by her great corrup-
tion as she did by the greatness of her empire.
But can we say that no other age or nation has known servil-
ity of soul, licentiousness in public amusements, and the conspicu-
ous depravity in morals that is always to be seen where indolence
and wealth are united ?
To the legacies left by Rome which have now been enumer-
ated, we must add another, which ranks among the most pre-
cious. Notwithstanding the poetic piety of Virgil, and Livy's
official credulity, the dominant note of Latin literature is the in-
difference of Horace, when it is not the daring skepticism of
IX-318


## p. 5074 (#242) ###########################################

5074
JEAN VICTOR DURUY
Lucretius. To Cicero, Seneca, Tacitus, and the great juriscon-
sults, the prime necessity was the free possession of themselves,
that independence of philosophic thought which they owed to
Greece. This spirit, begotten of pure reason, was almost stifled
during the Middle Ages. It reappeared when antiquity was re-
covered. From that day the renascent world set forward again;
and in the new path France, heir of Athens and of Rome, was
long her guide --- for art in its most charming form, and for
thought, developed in the light.
Upon a medal of Constantine his son presents to him a globe
surmounted by a phenix, symbol of immortality. For once the
courtiers were not in the wrong.
The sacred bird which springs
from her own ashes is a fitting emblem of this old Rome, dead
fifteen centuries ago, yet alive to-day through her genius: Siamo
Romani.


## p. 5075 (#243) ###########################################

5075
TORU DUTT
(1856–1877)
etry of
N 1874 there appeared in the Bengal Magazine an essay upon
Leconte de Lisle, which showed not only an unusual knowl-
edge of French literature, but also decided literary quali-
ties. The essayist was Toru Dutt, a Hindu girl of eighteen, daughter
of Govin Chunder Dutt, for many years a justice of the peace at
Calcutta. The family belonged to the high-caste cultivated Hindus,
and Toru's education was conducted on broad lines. Her work fre-
quently discloses charming pictures of the home life that filled the
old garden house at Calcutta. Here it is easy to see the studious
child poring over French, German, and English lexicons. reading
every book she could lay hold of, hearing from her mother's lips those
old legends of her race which had been woven into the
native bards long before the civilization of modern Europe existed.
In her thirteenth year Toru and her younger sister were sent to
study for a few months in France, and thence to attend lectures at
Cambridge and to travel in England. A memory of this visit appears
in Toru's little poem, Near Hastings,' which shows the impression-
able nature of the Indian girl, so sensitive to the romance of an alien
race, and so appreciative of her friendly welcome to English soil.
After four years' travel in Europe the Dutts returned to India to
resume their student life, and Toru began to learn Sanskrit. She
showed great aptitude for the French language and a strong liking
for the French character, and she made a special study of French
romantic poetry. Her essays on Leconte de Lisle and Joséphin Sou-
lary, and a series of English translations of poetry, were the fruit of
her labor. The translations, including specimens from Béranger, Thé-
ophile Gautier, François Coppée, Sully-Prud'homme, and other popu-
lar writers, were collected in 1876 under the title "A Sheaf Gleaned
in French Fields. A few copies found their way into Europe, and
both French and English reviewers recognized the value of the har-
vest of this clear-sighted gleaner. One critic called these poems, in
which Toru so faithfully reproduced the spirit of one alien tongue in
the forms of another, transmutations rather than translations.
But marvelous as is the mastery shown over the subtleties of
thought and the difficulties of translation, the achievement remains
that of acquirement rather than of inspiration. But Toru's English
renditions of the native Indian legends, called Ancient Ballads of


## p. 5076 (#244) ###########################################

5076
TORU DUTT
seer
Hindustan,' give a sense of great original power. Selected from
much completed work left unpublished at her too early death, these
poems are revelations of the Eastern religious thought, which loves
to clothe itself in such forms of mystical beauty as haunt the memory
and charm the fancy. But in these translations it is touched by the
spirit of the new faith which Toru had adopted. The poems remain,
however, essentially Indian. The glimpses of lovely landscape, the
shining temples, the greening gloom of the jungle, the pink Aush of
the dreamy atmosphere, are all of the East, as is the philosophie
calm that breathes through the verses. The most beautiful of the
ballads is perhaps that of Savitri,' the king's daughter who by love
wins back her husband after he has passed the gates of death.
Another, “Sindher,' re-tells the old story of that king whose great
power is unavailing to avert the penalty which follows the breaking
of the Vedic law, even though it was broken in ignorance. Still
another, Prehlad,' reveals that insight into things spiritual which
characterizes the true or “called of God. ” Two charming
legends, Jogadhya Uma,' and (Buttoo,' full of the pastoral simplicity
of the early Aryan life, and a few miscellaneous poems, complete
this volume upon which Toru's fame will rest.
A posthumous novel written in French makes up the sum of her
contribution to letters. Le Journal de Mlle. D'Arvers) was found
completed among her posthumous papers. It is a romance of modern
French life, whose motive is the love of two brothers for the same
girl. The tragic element dominates the story, and the author has
managed the details with extraordinary ease without sacrificing either
dignity or dramatic effect. The story was edited by Mademoiselle
Bader, a correspondent of Toru, and her sole acquaintance among
European authors. In 1878, the year after the poet's death, appeared
a second edition of (A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields' containing
forty-three additional poems, with a brief biographical sketch written
by her father. The many translators of the (Sakoontala' and of
other Indian dramas show how difficult it is for the Western mind to
express the indefinable spirituality of temper that fills ancient Hindu
poetry. This remarkable quality Toru wove unconsciously into her
English verse, making it seem not exotic but complementary, an
echo of that far-off age when the genius of the two
aces
was one.


## p. 5077 (#245) ###########################################

TORU DUTT
5077
JOGADHYA UMA
"S"
HELL BRACELETS, ho! Shell bracelets, ho!
Fair maids and matrons, come and buy! )
Along the road, in morning's glow,
The peddler raised his wonted cry.
The road ran straight, a red, red line,
To Khigoram, for cream renowned,
Through pasture meadows where the kine,
In knee-deep grass, stood magic bound
And half awake, involved in mist
That floated in dun coils profound,
Till by the sudden sunbeams kist,
Rich rainbow hues broke all around.
«Shell bracelets, ho! Shell bracelets, ho! »
The roadside trees still dripped with dew
And hung their blossoms like a show.
Who heard the cry? 'Twas but a few;
A ragged herd-boy, here and there,
With his long stick and naked feet;
A plowman wending to his care,
The field from which he hopes the wheat;
An early traveler, hurrying fast
To the next town; an urchin slow
Bound for the school; these heard and passed,
Unheeding all, — “Shell bracelets, ho! ”
Pellucid spread a lake-like tank
Beside the road now lonelier still;
High on three sides arose the bank
Which fruit-trees shadowed at their will;
Upon the fourth side was the ghat,
With its broad stairs of marble white,
And at the entrance arch there sat,
Full face against the morning light,
A fair young woman with large eyes,
And dark hair falling to her zone;
She heard the peddler's cry arise,
And eager seemed his ware to own.
« Shell bracelets, ho! See, maiden, see!
The rich enamel, sunbeam-kist!


## p. 5078 (#246) ###########################################

5078
TORU DUTT
Happy, oh happy, shalt thou be,
Let them but clasp that slender wrist;
These bracelets are a mighty charm;
They keep a lover ever true,
And widowhood avert, and harm.
Buy them, and thou shalt never rue.
Just try them on! ” — She stretched her hand.
“Oh, what a nice and lovely fit!
No fairer hand in all the land,
And lo! the bracelet matches it. ”
Dazzled, the peddler on her gazed,
Till came the shadow of a fear,
While she the bracelet-arm upraised
Against the sun to view more clear.
Oh, she was lovely! but her look
Had something of a high command
That filled with awe. Aside she shook
Intruding curls, by breezes fanned,
And blown across her brows and face,
And asked the price; which when she heard
She nodded, and with quiet grace
For payment to her home referred.
“And where, O maiden, is thy house?
But no,- that wrist-ring has a tongue;
No maiden art thou, but a spouse,
Happy, and rich, and fair, and young. ”
«Far otherwise; my lord is poor,
And him at home thou shalt not find;
Ask for my father; at the door
Knock loudly; he is deaf, but kind.
Seest thou that lofty gilded spire,
Above these tufts of foliage green?
That is our place; its point of fire
Will guide thee o'er the tract between. ”
« That is the temple spire. ” _ « Yes, there
We live; my father is the priest;
The manse is near, a building fair,
But lowly to the temple's east.
When thou hast knocked, and seen him, say,
His daughter, at Dhamaser Ghat,
Shell bracelets bought from thee to-day,
And he must pay so much for that.


## p. 5079 (#247) ###########################################

TORU DUTT
5079
Be sure, he will not let thee pass
Without the value, and a meal.
If he demur, or cry alas!
No money hath he,- then reveal;
«Within the small box, marked with streaks
Of bright vermilion, by the shrine,
The key whereof has lain for weeks
Untouched, he'll find some coin,-'tis mine.
That will enable him to pay
The bracelet's price. Now fare thee well!
She spoke; the peddler went away,
Charmed with her voice as by some spell;
While she, left lonely there, prepared
To plunge into the water pure,
And like a rose, her beauty bared,
From all observance quite secure.
Not weak she seemed, nor delicate;
Strong was each limb of flexile grace,
And full the bust; the mien elate,
Like hers, the goddess of the chase
On Latmos hill,- and on the face
Framed in its cloud of floating hair!
No painter's hand might hope to trace
The beauty and the glory there!
Well might the peddler look with awe,
For though her eyes were soft, a ray
Lit them at times, which kings who saw
Would never dare to disobey.
Onward through groves the peddler sped,
Till full in front, the sunlit spire
Arose before him. Paths which led
To gardens trim, in gay attire,
Lay all around. And lo! the manse,
Humble but neat, with open door!
He paused, and blessed the lucky chance
That brought his bark to such a shore.
Huge straw-ricks, log huts full of grain,
Sleek cattle, flowers, a tinkling bell,
Spoke in a language sweet and plain,
“Here smiling Peace and Plenty dwell. ”
Unconsciously he raised his cry,
« Shell-bracelets, ho! » And at his voice


## p. 5080 (#248) ###########################################

5080
TORU DUTT
Looked out the priest, with eager eye,
And made his heart at once rejoice.
“Ho, Sankha peddler! Pass not by,
But step thou in, and share the food
Just offered on our altar high,
If thou art in a hungry mood.
Welcome are all to this repast!
The rich and poor, the high and low!
Come, wash thy feet, and break thy fast;
Then on thy journey strengthened go. ”
«Oh, thanks, good priest! Observance due
And greetings! May thy name be blest!
I came on business, but I knew,
Here might be had both food and rest
Without a charge; for all the poor
Ten miles around thy sacred shrine
Know that thou keepest open door,
And praise that generous hand of thine.
But let my errand first be told:
For bracelets sold to thine this day,
So much thou owest me in gold;
Hast thou the ready cash to pay ?
« The bracelets were enameled, - so
The price is high. ” — “How! Sold to mine?
Who bought them, I should like to know?
« Thy daughter, with the large black eyne,
Now bathing at the marble ghat. ”
Loud laughed the priest at this reply,
“I shall not put up, friend, with that;
No daughter in the world have I;
An only son is all my stay;
Some minx has played a trick, no doubt:
But cheer up, let thy heart be gay,
Be sure that I shall find her out. ”
"Nay, nay, good father! such a face
Could not deceive, I must aver;
At all events, she knows thy place,
(And if my father should demur
To pay thee,' — thus she said, -'or cry
He has no money, tell him straight
The box vermilion-streaked to try,
That's near the shrine. ) »_« Well, wait, friend, wait! »


## p. 5081 (#249) ###########################################

TORU DUTT
5081
The priest said, thoughtful; and he ran
And with the open box came back:-
«Here is the price exact, my man,
No surplus over, and no lack.
“How strange! how strange! Oh, blest art thou
To have beheld her, touched her hand,
Before whom Vishnu's self must bow,
And Brahma and his heavenly band !
Here have I worshiped her for years,
And never seen the vision bright;
Vigils and fasts and secret tears
Have almost quenched my outward sight;
And yet that dazzling form and face
I have not seen, and thou, dear friend,
To thee, unsought-for, comes the grace:
What may its purport be, and end ?
“How strange! How strange! Oh, happy thou'
And couldst thou ask no other boon
Than thy poor bracelet's price? That brow
Resplendent as the autumn moon
Must have bewildered thee, I trow,
And made thee lose thy senses all. ”
A dim light on the peddler now
Began to dawn; and he let fall
His bracelet-basket in his haste,
And backward ran, the way he came:
What meant the vision fair and chaste;
Whose eyes were they,- those eyes of flame?
Swift ran the peddler as a hind;
The old priest followed on his trace;
They reached the ghat, but could not find
The lady of the noble face.
The birds were silent in the wood;
The lotus flowers exhaled a smell,
Faint, over all the solitude;
A heron as a sentinel
Stood by the bank. They called, - in vain;
No answer came from hill or fell;
The landscape lay in slumber's chain;
E'en Echo slept within her shell.
Broad sunshine, yet a hush profound !
They turned with saddened hearts to go;


## p. 5082 (#250) ###########################################

5082
TORU DUTT
Then from afar there came a sound
Of silver bells; -- the priest said low,
“O Mother, Mother, deign to hear,
The worship-hour has rung; we wait
In meek humility and fear.
Must we return home desolate ?
Oh come, as late thou cam'st unsought,
Or was it but some idle dream ?
Give us some sign, if it was not;
A word, a breath, or passing gleam. ”
Sudden from out the water sprung
A rounded arm, on which they saw
As high the lotus buds among
It rose, the bracelet white, with awe.
Then a wide ripple'tost and swung
The blossoms on that liquid plain,
And lo! the arm so fair and young
Sank in the waters down again.
They bowed before the mystic Power,
And as they home returned in thought,
Each took from thence a lotus flower
In memory of the day and spot.
Years, centuries, have passed away,
And still before the temple shrine
Descendants of the peddler pay
Shell-bracelets of the old design
As annual tribute. Much they own
In lands and gold, — but they confess
From that eventful day alone
Dawned on their industry, success.
Absurd may be the tale I tell,
Ill-suited to the marching times;
I loved the lips from which it fell,
So let it stand among my rhymes.
OUR CASUARINA-TREE
L
IKE a huge python, winding round and round
The rugged trunk, indented deep with scars
Up to its very summit near the stars,
A creeper climbs, in whose embraces bound
No other tree could live. But gallantly


## p. 5083 (#251) ###########################################

TORU DUTT
5083
The giant wears the scarf, and flowers are hung
In crimson clusters all the boughs among,
Whereon all day are gathered bird and bee;
And oft at night the garden overflows
With one sweet song that seems to have no close,
Sung darkling from our tree, while men repose.
Unknown, yet well known to the eye of faith!
Ah, I have heard that wail far, far away
In distant lands, by many a sheltered bay,
When slumbered in his cave the water wraith,
And the waves gently kissed the classic shore
Of France or Italy, beneath the moon,
When earth lay trancèd in a dreamless swoon;
And every time the music rose, before
Mine inner vision rose a form sublime,
Thy form, O tree! as in my happy prime
I saw thee in my own loved native clime.
But not because of its magnificence
Dear is the Casuarina to my soul:
Beneath it we have played: though years may roll,
O sweet companions, loved with love intense,
For your sakes shall the tree be ever dear!
Blent with your images, it shall arise
In memory, till the hot tears blind mine eyes.
What is that dirge-like murmur that I hear
Like the sea breaking on a shingle beach ?
It is the tree's lament, an eerie speech,
That haply to the Unknown Land may reach.
When first my casement is wide open thrown
At dawn, my eyes delighted on it rest;
Sometimes,- and most in winter, - on its crest
A gray baboon sits statue-like alone,
Watching the sunrise; while on lower boughs
His puny offspring leap about and play;
And far and near kokilas hail the day;
And to their pastures wend our sleepy cows:
And in the shadow, on the broad tank cast
By that hoar tree, so beautiful and vast,
The water-lilies spring, like snow enmassed.


## p. 5084 (#252) ###########################################

5084
JOHN S. DWIGHT
(1813-1893)
J
a
JOHN SULLIVAN DWIGHT was born in Boston, Massachusetts,
May 13th, 1813. After graduation at Harvard in 1832, he
studied at the Divinity School, and for two years was pastor
of a Unitarian church in Northampton, Massachusetts. He then be-
came interested in founding the famous Brook Farm community,
which furnished Hawthorne with the background for “The Blithedale
Romance'; and he is mentioned in the preface to this book with
Ripley, Dana, Channing, Parker, etc.
This was
community
scheme, undertaken by joint ownership in a farm in West Roxbury
near Boston; associated with the names of Hawthorne, Emerson,
George William Curtis, and C. A. Dana, a scheme which Emerson
called a perpetual picnic, a French Revolution in small, an age of
reason in a patty-pan. ” This community existed seven years, and to
quote again from Emerson, — “In Brook Farm was this peculiarity,
that there was no head. In every family is the father; in every fac-
tory a foreman; in a shop a master; in a boat the skipper: but in
this Farm no authority; each was master or mistress of their actions;
happy, hapless anarchists. »
Here Mr. Dwight edited The Harbinger, a periodical published by
that community; taught languages and music, besides doing his share
of the manual labor. In 1848 he returned to Boston and engaged in
literature and musical criticism; and in 1852 he established Dwight's
Journal of Music, which he edited for thirty years. Many of his best
essays appeared in the Atlantic Monthly, and he contributed to
various periodicals.
He was one of the pioneers of scholarly, intelligent, original, and
literary musical criticism in America, and he possessed fine general
attainments and a distinct style. It is because of his clear perception
of the indispensableness of the arts- and especially of the art of
music — to life, and because of his clear statement of their vital rela-
tionship, that his work belongs to literature.


## p. 5085 (#253) ###########################################

JOHN S. DWIGHT
5085
MUSIC AS A MEANS OF CULTURE
From the Atlantic Monthly, 1870, by permission of Houghton, Mifflin
and Company
W*
TE As a democratic people, a great mixed people of all races,
overrunning a vast continent, need music even more than
others. We need some ever-present, ever-welcome influ-
ence that shall insensibly tone down our self-asserting and ag-
gressive manners, round off the sharp, offensive angularity of
character, subdue and harmonize the free and ceaseless conflict
of opinions, warm out the genial individual humanity of each
and every unit of society, lest he become a mere member of a
party, or a sharer of business or fashion. This rampant liberty
will rush to its own ruin, unless there shall be found some gen-
tler, harmonizing, humanizing culture, such as may pervade
whole masses with a fine enthusiasm, a sweet sense of reverence
for something far above us, beautiful and pure; awakening some
ideality in every soul, and often lifting us out of the hard hope-
less prose of daily life. We need this beautiful corrective of our
crudities. Our radicalism will pull itself up by the roots, if it
do not cultivate the instinct of reverence. The first impulse of
freedom is centrifugal,- to fly off the handle, - unless it be re-
strained by a no less free impassioned love of order. We need
to be so enamored of the divine idea of unity, that that alone
the enriching of that — shall be the real motive for assertion of
our individuality. What shall so temper and tone down our
« fierce democracy” ? It must be something better, lovelier,
more congenial to human nature than mere stern prohibition,
cold Puritanic «Thou shalt not! ” What can so quickly magnet-
ize a people into this harmonic mood as music ? Have we not
seen it, felt it?
The hard-working, jaded millions need expansion, need the
rejuvenating, the ennobling experience of joy. Their toil, their
church, their creed perhaps, their party livery, and very vote,
are narrowing; they need to taste, to breathe a larger, freer life.
Has it not come to thousands, while they have listened to or
joined their voices in some thrilling chorus that made the heav-
ens seem to open and come down ? The governments of the
Old World do much to make the people cheerful and contented;
here it is all laissez-faire, each for himself, in an ever keener
strife of competition. We must look very much to music to do


## p.